Seven Deadly Queens (The FuBar Book 3)

by Jess Whitecroft

  “It’s true,” said Sheila. “You have changed. You’ve really embraced your comedy side, and it’s very sexy.”

  “Seriously.” Bunny scrolled through more of the Sloth pictures and giggled. “I’m getting Lili Von Shtupp here. I am living for your inner Madeline Kahn, Helena.”

  “We’re gonna have to think of a YouTube project for next year,” said Sheila. “Because you two are so fucking funny together.”

  “Oh stop it. You’re making me blush.”

  Bunny scrolled onto the next picture, and everyone gasped.

  Rose.

  There was no comedy here. Just beauty. She was tangled up on the swing, and Sheila had Photoshopped the ropes to look like strings of diamonds. Silky brown legs, gold glitter lips, girlish throat arched to receive a fluttering fall of hundred dollar bills. Justin felt perversely pleased with himself, because he’d not only met the conditions of Helena’s bet, but smashed them: he was platonic friends with the most beautiful queen in the FuBar. Possibly the most beautiful queen in the world.

  “Wow.”

  “Incredible.”

  “Gorgeous.”

  “Hey, great job erasing her ankle monitor.”

  Rose laughed and reached for the tablet. “I wanna see Justin.”

  “No no no nooo…” He scrambled for it across the bar, but it was too late. There he was. Or she was.

  ‘Justine’ lay stretched out between two hard, golden bodies. Her lips had got smudged halfway through, and Sheila had said to keep them that way, then applied red lipstick kisses to both of the boys’ naked torsos.

  “Holy shit,” said Helena. “You look so horny.”

  “Like you want to unhinge your jaw like a python and swallow them both whole,” said Bunny. “They’re yummy. How the hell did you hold out on them?”

  “Five hundred bucks,” said Justin, baring his teeth in a grin. “I’m going all the way, Helena. These legs are staying closed until New Year.”

  “But at the stroke of midnight, stand back,” said Bunny. “Because this boy’s gonna turn into a blumpkin.”

  “What’s a blumpkin?” said Rose.

  “You’re too young to know,” said Sheila, but Bunny had a big mouth and no shame.

  “It’s when you give a guy a blowjob while he’s taking a shit,” she said.

  “It is?” said Helena. “I thought that was a Cleveland steamer?”

  Sheila shrieked with laughter.

  Rose looked appalled. “Please tell me you’ve never done that.”

  “Of course I haven’t,” said Bunny. “I’m all for depravity, but that’s gotta be some kind of Health Code violation. Besides, if a man wants something large in his ass while he’s getting a beej, then there are plenty of things that fit the bill and don’t give you pinkeye and ecoli.”

  “Yeah, I think Justin has most of them in his attic,” said Sheila.

  There was a tap on the window outside, and they all turned to see Cher with her hands cupped over the glass, trying to squint inside.

  “Fuck,” said Rose. “Piss test time.”

  Helena opened the door. Cher wasted no time in getting down to narc business. “What is he doing in the bar?” she said, pointing to Rose.

  “Not drinking,” said Rose.

  “You’re not supposed to be in the bar. You’re underage.”

  “Um, it’s not even open?”

  “I said she could come down here,” said Bunny. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me. And she hasn’t touched a drop.”

  Cher, like always, concentrated on the wrong part of what was being said. “She?”

  “I’m genderfluid,” said Rose. “I woke up feeling girly today.”

  “Can you still pee standing up?”

  Rose smiled and raised a middle finger.

  “I gotta test you,” said Cher, holding out a sample pot.

  “I just peed.”

  “I thought you weren’t drinking?”

  “Not booze,” said Rose. “I still gotta hydrate. You do know that people are like, eighty per cent water, right?”

  “Cool,” said Cher. “Then hopefully you can wring a few drops out.” As she turned her head she caught sight of Sheila’s tablet, where Misty Meanors was striking a dramatic pose in nothing but surgical cap and censor bars. “What in the world…? I thought drag was dressing as women, not undressing as women.”

  “Porque no los dos?” Rose got down off the barstool, but then the screen changed and it was everything Justin dreaded. There he was, tangled up with David and Trey. Fake tits, smudged lipstick, blonde wig – the lot. “Your own mother won’t recognize you when I’m done with you,” Helena had said, while she was applying the make-up, and maybe that had been true. But sister? Not so much. Cher was a born tattletale, an expert at seeing through excuses and disguises.

  “Justin?” she said.

  “What?”

  “Does Mom know about this?”

  “No,” said Justin. “But I’m sure she will real soon, won’t she, Cher?”

  “It’s going to be on a lot of social media,” said Bunny, with an evil grin.

  Helena slapped her upper arm. “Bunny, you fucking pot stirrer.”

  “Speaking of pots,” said Cher, waggling the sample container at Rose. “Come on. I got a pot, and you need to piss in it.”

  Rose headed for the bathrooms. “I like our relationship now,” she said. “It’s got a real warmth to it.”

  “Yeah. The only warmth I want from you right now is in the form of a urine sample.”

  Justin followed, trying to think of some means of blackmail that might help Cher keep her mouth shut, but Cher already had other things on her mind. “Uh, isn’t this the little boy’s room?” she said.

  “So?”

  “He says he’s a girl.”

  Rose, already inside a stall, groaned. “Oh my God. Do you have to get all North Carolina when I’m trying to pee?”

  “Seriously,” said Justin. “If she wants to be a girl, call her she. It doesn’t fucking hurt you.”

  “She was the one who walked into this bathroom,” said Cher.

  “Yeah, I have a shy bladder, by the way. A large, shy bladder. That was recently emptied.”

  Cher snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “I have to listen. Make sure you’re doing it.”

  “Great. You want to watch the piss physically leave my body, too?”

  “No. That’s the next stage.”

  “The next stage?” said Justin. “You watch people pee?”

  “I have to.”

  “Jesus. You are such a Nazi.”

  Cher glared. “Don’t you call me a Nazi, you pigfucker. I’m just doing my job.”

  “That’s what they said,” said Justin. “At the…the Nazi trials. You know.”

  “Nuremburg,” said Rose.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yes, thank you, The History Channel,” said Cher. “Can you just pee already?”

  “No,” said Rose, and opened the door. There was about a quarter inch in the bottom of the plastic pot. “That’s it. That is literally all the pee I have in me.”

  Cher sealed the lid. “I don’t think that’s gonna be enough for testing purposes, but we’ll see.”

  “And if it’s clear?”

  “If it’s clear, we can talk about expanding your range of movement.”

  “I get to leave the house?” said Rose, all eyes.

  “If it’s clean. If it’s not, you know what happens.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.” Rose gave her a sarcastic smile. “But it’ll be clean. I haven’t even smoked a cigarette.”

  “Well, keep it up,” said Cher. “Because I might have to come back.”

  Once again, Justin followed her out. “Can you give the kid a break already?”

  Cher, standing on the berm, shook her head. “It’s mandatory.”

  “It’s bullshit. She’s clean, she’s sober. She’s done everything by
the book. Don’t you think this is overkill for a minor fucking drug charge?”

  “Hey, don’t bitch to me. Take it up with the state justice system. I don’t make the rules.”

  “No,” said Justin. “But you were only obeying orders. Isn’t that how it goes?”

  “Oh, go fuck yourself.”

  “Nice.”

  “You called me a Nazi, you dickbag.”

  “You called me a pigfucker.”

  “Because you called me a Nazi, asshole.”

  “Because you were acting like one,” said Justin, wondering what it was about his siblings that made them all regress to the age of about eleven when they were together. “You’re obsessed with rules and labels. You even have a uniform. Okay, so you might not be a full-on Nazi, but at the very least you’re like, Queen Narc right now.”

  Cher pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Could you maybe stop being such a fucking Barrow for once in your life? Just once?”

  “Huh?”

  “You know what I mean,” she said. “You sound like Dad, Justin. I’m obsessed with labels? You’re the one who sees a uniform and decides ‘narc.’ It’s…it’s fucking childish is what it is. I know the system is broken, okay? I’m trying to make it work for people. You think I want to send that kid back to prison? Because I don’t. I think it fucking sucks as much as you do, okay? He…she would be much better off on the outside, getting a job and an education, but if this urine sample says so, she’s going back to jail. Where all she’s going to learn is how to pick locks, suck dick and make shivs out of old toothbrush handles. And I don’t like it any more than you do, Justin, but I’m trying to do my best. Trying to keep these kids out of prison. What the fuck are you doing about it? Other than yelling ‘narc’ and ‘Nazi’ every time you encounter a system you’re not even trying to change?”

  “Okay, FY-fucking-I, I have done a lot,” said Justin.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I make her virgin mojitos so she’s not tempted to drink. I hide the bong whenever she’s around. For fuck’s sake, I even got up in drag so she’d have a dress to make and keep busy, have a chance to do something she loves. So don’t tell me I don’t do anything for Rose, because I do something every day, and it might not be official, and there might not be forms, and there might not be sample results you can file, but I do what I do because she’s fucking family.”

  Cher raised an eyebrow. “Family. And what am I? Chopped liver?”

  Shit. “Cher, come on. You know what I mean…”

  “Yep. I do,” she said, turning away.

  “Cher, come on. I’m sorry.”

  “Fuck you,” she called over her shoulder, and walked away.

  *

  That night Justin lay flat on his back in the attic, staring up at his collection of toys on the shelf above. Sometimes he’d look up and pick one, but tonight he wasn’t in the mood for anything, not even a lazy quickie with a vibrator pressed up against his balls. His dick lay flaccid against his belly, uninspired by the sound of Helena getting it on downstairs. He gave it a cursory tug and flashed back on happy memories of Stephen’s body – pink blunt tipped cock, compact balls, freckles on his thighs – but his dick wasn’t into it. So much for the twisted thrill of jacking it to the reason you were currently celibate in the first place. Soft, throaty cries floated up through the floorboards, a surrendered sound that Justin had never heard from Stephen on any of the occasions when they’d fucked.

  And maybe that was the difference. Maybe that was what Stephen sounded when he was fucking someone he loved. Like the way ‘I love you’ had slipped out of Adam’s mouth while Justin had been inside him, but the words had been for Ryan, on the other side of the sandwich.

  Am I broken somehow?

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Yeah?”

  He heard the door creak open, then footsteps approaching. Rose stood in the bedroom doorway, five foot five in Helena’s bunny slippers and a t-shirt that came more than halfway down her thighs. “So…” she said, inclining her head towards the noise coming from downstairs.

  “You wanna sleep up here?”

  Rose nodded. “Yeah. The humping is kind of out of control down there.”

  Justin twitched back the side of the covers. “Get in.”

  They lay there for a while, side by side, trying to pretend they weren’t listening to Hu and Helena fucking. Something else, Justin thought. Talk about something else. Anything. His mind was suddenly blank.

  “So…” Rose said. “Your sister.”

  “I’m sorry she’s a bitch.”

  “Nah. It’s not your fault.”

  “We all got fucked up in our ways,” said Justin. “Nobody had any time for her when we were growing up. No time for anyone. There were a lot of us kids.”

  “How many?”

  “Seven, in all. Three brothers, three sisters, then my sister Arianna went and got knocked up when she was fifteen, and just to make things extra fun she popped out twins.”

  “Oh my God,” said Rose.

  “Yep. She swore it was the first time she had sex, too. First time, believed him when he said he’d pull out, he didn’t, and she got pregnant with twins. I believe her, too. It’s typical of my family’s fucking luck. Everything happens to the Barrows.”

  “So there were nine kids?”

  “Sorta,” said Justin. “A lot of us older ones were in and out at the time, me and Cher and Jordan. But yeah, it was hectic.” The noise from downstairs was getting more intense now, enough even to tug at the roots of Justin’s jaded balls. “I think that’s why I like it here: there’s always something going on.”

  “…oh Jesus, yes, fuck me, fuck me…I’m coming, I’m co-ming…” Stephen wailed, so loud that Rose giggled.

  “Yikes,” she said.

  Justin listened, curious. “Is Hu fucking him?”

  “Sounds like.”

  “Wow. And I always thought Helena was like, the ultimate service top.”

  “She’s getting her verse on, I guess,” said Rose.

  Silence settled. Justin pictured the lovers’ breaths slowing, and envied them their snuggly peace. He thought of Bunny’s empty bed and how many more nights Bunny spent in Ryan’s bed these days, and all at once he realized how much he dreaded the thought that one day their weird little family might come unglued. Spread out, like everyone else’s. And as much as he knew that was the natural way of things, it still hurt.

  Rose seemed to sense his anxiety and shifted closer. “You wanna cuddle?” she said, and Justin thought he’d never wanted anything else so much in the world as he wanted that.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

  13

  It was snowing lightly, and Ryan was being mysterious. Adam had wanted to walk with him to the gym, but he’d turned the wrong way down Liberty Avenue instead of Grant Street, piquing Adam’s curiosity.

  “Where are we going?”

  Ryan laughed. “I can’t believe it took you this long to ask.”

  “Yeah, well – I was glad to get out of the house. Helena’s been a bitch this morning.”

  “Why?” said Ryan, shifting his gym bag to the other shoulder so that they could hold hands. “Is he having trouble with the whole Instagram apology tour?”

  “Oh, who knows. They’re both awful right now. Hu told me to fuck off this morning.”

  “Hu?”

  “I know. In his defense, he said please, but still.”

  “Please fuck off?”

  Adam shrugged. “They were in the kitchen, both of them looking like they’d been sucking on lemons all night. So I’m like ‘Oh shit, did they have another unfortunate citrus incident?’ and so I asked what was wrong, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Helena had already left, so I ask Hu. He says he’s fine, I said ‘Are you sure?’ and he said ‘Adam, please fuck off,’ and disappears back into Helena’s room. I don’t know what’s wrong with everyone lately. Justin wants hugs all the time a
nd Hulena has turned into a two-headed bitch on wheels. At least Rose is normal. Or as normal as you can be when you’re a battery operated shut-in.” They turned another corner into 4th Avenue. The snow was coming down thicker now, flakes distinct against the iron colored sky. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re here,” said Ryan, stopping. He grinned and looked up. It was a tall, grey stone turn of the century building, with French directoire style windows that reminded Adam of New York.

  “Ryan, is this an apartment?”

  Ryan grinned. “Come on. Come and take a look. I could use your opinion.”

  Adam sighed and followed, simultaneously delighted and annoyed.

  “There’s a gym,” said Ryan, as they entered the large, marble floored vestibule. “And a rooftop terrace.”

  “Communal?”

  “Yep.”

  “Hmm,” said Adam, conscious of his role as the one who needed to be persuaded. “So I can’t drink Amaretto Sours up there in the nude. Is that what you’re saying?”

  They stepped into the elevator. “The bar and its roof will still be there for all your nude Amaretto Sour needs,” said Ryan, unable to resist pressing him up against the side of the elevator. “And I know you have a lot of them.”

  “Mmm. I do.” Adam shivered at the touch of Ryan’s lips on his neck. Even the current drama with Venus and the hectic holidays couldn’t dull the pleasure of spending time with Ryan. Last night they’d made love on the couch like teenagers. Half naked, popcorn spilled, and the lights of an ignored movie flickering over their bare thighs and clutching fists. As the elevator dinged, Adam knew he was already half-sold on this place, because he was already thinking of the kisses they’d steal on their way up to their apartment.

  “So, here we are,” Ryan said, leading the way down a hallway.

  “How did you get the key? Ryan, please don’t tell me you already put down a deposit.”

  “Not yet. But I know the realtor. Her kid’s one of my track stars. I explained that I’d need a second opinion from my boyfriend, and that he kept strange hours.”

  “Ah. I see.”